Sexless in the City

Sometimes reading romance novels doesn’t quite prepare you for a love life...

For this 30-year-old urbanite, love is always a misadventure: The Harvard Lickwit, Hippie the Groper, the 5% Man, and the Ad Weasel. These and many other men wander in and out of her life — but never her bed.

Monday, December 27, 2004

December contest, week 3

Yeah, perhaps these pics are getting to be a stretch ... but hey, I’ve been holed up with the fambly most of the week. How can I get much action - I mean, blog-worthy action - that way? ;)

At any rate, your challenge once again is to devise a creative caption relating this swank photophone image to Anna’s life. As inspired, perhaps, by this week’s search for employment. Feel free, also, to make suggestions for the Blog Reader World Series prize. Poster Boy has officially turned up his nose at a date with Grammy Broadway (though Frasier was enticed by said prospect) so we may have to have a winner-specific prize. Should I stick with the date category, or move on to other options?

And while we’re speaking of dates, I clearly need to start making plans for my New Year’s. I can’t help it, really. I mean, I was at the airport, waiting for my luggage, and there’s Harry on the Muzak! So inspirational. So familiar. So timely: “What are you doing New Year’s, New Year’s Eve?”

I once spent a Singapore New Year’s pining to that song as played on - what else - “repeat one” mode on my discman. Hanging out over the balcony, storing up rhino-love points no doubt, and moping away for some boy who - if I am recalling correctly - always walked like “some frog with a stick up his butt” (as I used to put it).

Ask me why I found him attractive? Well, he was a Christian and a musician. Only he played sax. As a newly- but not well-kissed college freshman, I was convinced all those tongue-ing exercises had to have made him a most proficient smoocher. And, um, yeah, he loved Jesus. That was great too. Hence the pining ... the repeat-plays of Harry (who, as at least a quasi-jazz musician also brought pleasant associations with said sax player: we were acquainted through our membership in the small-college jazz band) ... and so on.

That guy’s been married several years now, but he was always too attached to Iowa for an urbanite like me. I mean - hello! - I take far too masochistic a pleasure in high heels (and, sometimes, falling in them) to ever survive in cow-tipping territory. What was I thinking?!!

But it’s what you’re all thinking of this week’s picture that I want to know. That, and ideas for the BRWS prize. Don’t be shy with your comments now! Captions accepted through Sunday, Jan. 2.